(Cut to bedroom of a middle-aged, middle-class wealthy couple.
It is dark. They are both lying fast asleep on their backs. The
husband is a colonel type with a moustache to boot. She has her hair
in curlers and face cream on. Someone climbs in through the window
and pads across to the wife. He is a dapper little Frenchman in a
beret and a continental nylon mac, carrying a french loaf. He kisses
her on the forehead. She wakes.)
Maurice: Vera ... Vera ... darling! Wake up my little
lemon. Come to my arms.
Vera: Maurice! What are you doing here?
Maurice: I could not keep away from you. I must have you
all the time.
Vera: Oh this is most inconvenient.
Maurice: Don't talk to me about convenience, love consumes
my naughty mind, I'm delirious with desire.
(He kisses her hand repeatedly. The husband wakes up with a
start and sits up bolt upright and looks straight ahead.)
Husband: What's that, Vera?
Vera: Oh noticing, dear. Just a trick of the light.
Husband: Righto (he goes straight to sleep again)
Vera: Phew! That was close.
Maurice: Now then my little banana, my little fruit salad,
I can wait for you no longer. You must be mine utterly ...
Vera: Oh, Maurice!
(Suddenly beside them appears a young public-school man in a
check suit with a pipe.)
Roger: Vera! How dare you!
Vera: Roger!
Roger: What's the meaning of this?
Vera: Oh I can explain everything, my darling!
Roger: Who is this?
Vera: This is Maurice Zatapathique ... Roger Thompson ...
Roger Thompsnn ... Maurice Zatapathique.
Maurice: How do you do.
Roger: How do you do ... (kneeling) How could you
do this to me, Vera ... after all we've been through? Dammit, I love
you.
Maurice: Vera! Don't you understand, it's me that loves
you.
(The husband wakes up again.)
Husband: What's happening, Vera?
Vera: Oh, nothing dear. Just a twig brushing against the
window.
Husband: Righto. (he goes back to sleep)
Roger: Come to me Vera!
Vera: Oh ... not now, Roger.
Maurice: Vera, my little hedgehog! Don't turn me away!
Vera: Oh it cannot be, Maurice.
(Enter Biggles. He wears flying boots, jacket and helmet us
for First World War. He meats a notice round his neck: 'Biggles'.)
Biggles: Hands off, you filthy bally froggie! (kneels
by the bed)
Vera: Oh Ken, Ken Biggles!
Biggles: Yes, Algy's here as well.
Vera: Algy Braithwaite?
(Into the light comes Algy. Team streaming down his face. He
wears a notice round his neck which reads: Algy's here as well'.)
Algy: That's right... Vera ... (he chokes back the
tears) Oh God you know we both still bally love you.
Vera: Oh Biggles! Algy. Oh, but how wonderful!
((She starts to cry. Husband wakes up again.)
Husband: What's happening, Vera?
Vera: Oh, er, nothing dear. It's just the toilet filling
up.
Husband: Righto. (he goes fast asleep again)
(By this stage all the men have pulled up chairs in a circle
around Vera's side of the bed. They are all chatting amongst
themselves. Biggles is holding her hand. Maurice has produced a
bottle of vin ordinaire. At this moment four Mexican musicians
appear on the husband's side of the bed. The leader of the band
nudges the husband, who wakes.)
Mexican: (reading from a scruffy bit of paper)
Scusey... you tell me where is ... Mrs. Vera Jackson ... please.
Husband: Yes ... right and right again.
Mexican: Muchas gracias...
Husband: Righto.
(He immediately goes back to sleep again. The Mexicans all
troop round the bed and enter the group. The leader conducts them
and they start up a little conga . . . once they've started he turns
and comes over to Vera with a naughty glint in his eye. They play
aguitar, a trumpet and maracas.)
Mexican: Oh Vera ... you remember Acapulco in the
Springtime ...
Vera: Oh. The Herman Rodrigues Four!
(Suddenly the husband wakes up.)
Husband: >Vera! (there is immediate silence) I
distinctly heard a Mexican rhythm combo.
Vera: Oh no, dear... it was just the electric blanket
switching off.
Husband: Hm. Well I'm going for a tinkle.
(He gets out of bed and disappears into the gloom.)
Vera: Oh no you can't do that. Here, we haven't finished
the sketch yet!
Algy: Dash it all, there's only another bally page.
Roger: I say. There's no one to react to.
Maurice: Don't talk to the camera.
Roger: Oh sorry.
(Enter a huge man dressed as an Aztec god (viz: Christopher
Plummer in 'Royal Hunt of the Sun). He stretches arms open wide and
is about to speak when owing to lack of money he is cut short by
Vera.)
Vera: Here it's no good you coming in ... He's gone and
left the sketch.
Biggles: Yes, he went for a tinkle.
(Cut to close-up of husband and a dolly bird with a lavatory
chain hanging between them. She is about to pull the chain when he
stops her.)
Husband: Sh! I think my wife is beginning to suspect
something...
(Cut to animation of various strange and wonderful creatures
saying to the effect:)
Hartebeeste: I thought that ending was a bit predictable.
Crocodile: (eating it) Yes indeed there was a
certain lack of originality.
Ostrich: (eating the crocodile) Anyway it's not
necessarily a good thing just to be different.
A Lady: (emerging from hatch in ostrich) No, quite,
there is equal humor in the conventional.
Pig: (eating ostrich) But on the other hand, is it
what the public wants? I mean with the new permissiveness, not to
mention the balance of payments. It's an undeniable fact that...
Coelocanth: (eating the pig) I agree with that
completely.
Rodent: That's it... let's get out of this show before
it's too late...